


Symphony Shenanigans

by megastarstrike



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Gen, OOC, Slice of Life, a few curse words, definitely going to be ooc to fit the prompt, platonic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 14:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7535650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megastarstrike/pseuds/megastarstrike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because they were in a symphony together didn't mean they got along perfectly. Collection of the weird moments from the World Symphony Orchestra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symphony Shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

> All events have no timeline unless specified otherwise.

Another wedding, another session of torture.

  
Kiku watched the others in his quartet as he repeated the baseline of Canon in D.

The first violin smiled as he blasted his melody throughout the hall, earning the hearts of those that didn’t know better. The second violin glared at him until he too, got his melody. The viola player smirked at all of them. Pachebel didn’t write a viola part for his canon.

Kiku gaze moved towards to couple walking down the aisle.

They smiled and giggled to themselves with their eyes shining in delight and love. They held hands as the cameras surrounded them. It was truly their special moment.

He hoped all his suffering would be worth it.

A few minutes later, the couple still wasn’t done walking down the aisle.

And that was when Kiku felt his soul descend down to the fourth level of hell as he repeated the same eight notes for over ten minutes.

*

The World Symphony stayed silent as their conductor, Roderich, closed his eyes and sighed. They glanced at each other, trying to piece together what would happen next.

Finally, Roderich opened his eyes and pointed at Yao, the piano player.

“Everyone, follow the piano. He won’t make a mistake.”

The others stared at Yao, whose face contorted to an expression of pure terror.

“What? Don’t follow me, follow the conductor – aru!” he said.

Roderich cleared his throat. “Anyway, follow the piano. Start at section C.”

The orchestra flipped their music to section C. They took turns offering Yao a sympathetic look.

Yao set his hands on the keys, focusing on the music.

He definitely couldn’t mess up now.

*

"Strings, play at the frog,” Roderich said, “And remember to keep the articulation short and steady.”

The string section grabbed their pencils, reluctantly marking it in their music.

Feliciano, the flute, leaned over to his left and whispered, “Why is the conductor talking about amphibians?

Mei shrugged. “I don’t know how the string sections work.”

A nearby violist turned to stare at them in disbelief.

The two flutes ignored the violist as they exchanged their theories on what the frog was.

*

Who thought it was a good idea to make Alfred second chair trumpet?

The World Symphony took a moment to turn the page as they finished a movement.

Alfred took the corner of the page and flipped it over, glaring at Gilbert, the first chair trumpet. “Someday, I will overtake you.”

Gilbert laughed. “Keep dreaming, kid. For now, you’re _my_ page turning slave.”

Alfred growled before setting his lips on his mouthpiece.

*

Matthew darted his gaze from his band locker to Gilbert to the tuba nearby.

“Well?” Gilbert said, flourishing his hand to the locker. “Put your tuba in the locker.”

“There’s no way I can fit a tuba in that tiny locker.”

“Not with that attitude, you won’t. Give me your tuba for a minute.” Gilbert reached for the tuba.

Matthew backed away from him, hugging the tuba close to him before running back into the rehearsal hall.

It didn’t matter if the universe depended on it. Mathew would never even consider cramming his tuba in a locker meant for a piccolo.

*

It was rush hour in the practice rooms. Almost every room was full, except one.

Arthur and Alfred grabbed the free practice room’s handle at the same time.

A moment of silence passed before Arthur held out the sandwich in his other hand. “I will trade you my sandwich for this practice room.”

“What? Dude, you should eat your lunch,” Alfred said, wrinkling his nose at the sandwich.

“I won’t be able to eat it if my teacher decapitates me for not practicing. Just take it!”

Alfred took the sandwich and watched as Arthur rushed into the room, unpacking his violin at lightning speed.

Alfred took a bite of the sandwich before walking back out of the practice room building.

Violinists were weird.

*

Katyusha was already having a bad day.

She had been caught in the rain without an umbrella, forgotten her lunch, dropped her rosin on the floor, and much, much worse.

And now was the time when her C string decided to betray her.

The World Symphony froze as Katyusha’s C string snapped right into her face.

Katyusha held her cheek, trying to hold back the tears from the pain.

“Sister, are you alright?” Ivan set down his bassoon before rushing towards Katyusha.

Natalya did the same for her harp.

The two siblings fussed over Katyusha as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“What string did this to you?” Natalya hissed. “I’ll kill it!”

Katyusha sniffed. “No, don’t kill the string. It was my fault for pushing too hard on it.”

Ivan turned to Roderich. “You will allow us a break for this injury, da?” His innocent smile held no innocence at all, but rather an underlying threat.

Roderich gulped and nodded.

The rest of the symphony sighed in relief before crowding around Katyusha.

Katyusha’s sniffed, wiping the last of her tears away. “Thank all of you for caring, but I’m fine now. I just need to repair my C string.”

Kiku dug through his bag and pulled out a C string package. “I happen to have an extra one with me. I hope it is to your liking.”

Katyusha thanked him before repairing the string.

Despite the symphony’s differences, they all understood the pain of a C string snapping.

*

Elizabeta narrowed her eyes when the brass section smiled to themselves.

Gilbert, Alfred, and Mathias chuckled and pointed at their sheet music.

She raised an eyebrow at them, but continued singing. Whatever it was, she would find out soon enough.

A few minutes passed before Elizabeta finished her solo, and the orchestra swooped the melody away from her.

Elizabeta allowed the soothing melody replayed by the strings lull her to a peaceful comfort. The melody transferred over to the flutes, to the clarinet, and back to the strings.

The foghorn of the brass section brought her back to reality.

The rest of the orchestra jumped.

Gilbert and Alfred bumped their trumpets together, laughing and holding their sides. Mathias joined in the laughter. He clapped Gilbert on the shoulder and wiped away the tears from his eyes.

The other trombones, Vash and Ludwig, rolled their eyes.

Elizabeta and the rest of the symphony glared at them. What kind of prank did they pull on their ears now?

Roderich hit his stand with his baton before glaring at the brass section. “Trumpets, trombones, what is the meaning of this?”

Gilbert shrugged. “It said to play fortissitissitissitissimo.”

“What? No, this composer would never do that.” Roderich scanned the brass section in his score before he lost all faith in music.

There, indeed, were four f’s underneath the trumpet and trombone section.

*

Natalya knew that trumpets had huge egos, but she had never expected them to be this big.

Alfred stood in front of her with an opened can of Coca-Cola, pouting and trying to get past her.

Natalya hissed and guarded the piano. Her fist clenched around the knife to the point of turning white. “Stay away from this piano.”

“What? Why?” Alfred said, scratching his head. “I’m just trying to practice my piano etudes.”

Natalya pointed at the drink. “That. Never bring that drink one hundred feet of a Steinway, or I’ll track you down and beat you with my harpsichord.”

Alfred’s eyes lit up with understanding before he laughed. “Oh, so it’s about this? Sure, it is. You just don’t want someone as awesome as me showing you up with Chopin etudes.”

Natalya glared at him.

“In the name of freedom, I need you to get out of the doorway and let me in.”

“Over my cold, dead body.”

The two stayed in the stalemate before a teacher broke them up.

*

If Roderich could trust one person in the symphony other than his close friends, it would be the bass player, Berwald.

Roderich had never shouted at the bass section for anything they did wrong, other than a few intonation and dynamic mistakes.

So that was why he expected better from him.

Roderich cut off the orchestra, only to hear chips crunching in his right ear. He turned to the bass section.

Berwald had his hand behind his bass, but returned it to his bow after realizing the orchestra went silent.

“No snacks in the rehearsal hall,” Roderich said, “Please throw that away.”

Berwald took out his chip bag from behind his bass before downing the entire bag and throwing it away.

Roderich sighed and held his baton up while the rest of the orchestra giggled.

*

It was break time in the World Symphony. While others rushed out for the fresh air, Kiku preferred to stay inside and practice more. He needed to be the responsible first chair, after all.

Arthur was among those that would practice on his own during break time.

So when Arthur asked Kiku to borrow his cello, he didn’t have any qualms.

Arthur smiled as he moved his fingers over the strings to the opening of the Cello Haydn Concerto. He played through the entire first movement.

Kiku took the cello back, his face pale.

“Is something wrong, Kiku?” Arthur asked.

Kiku shook his head. “Not at all. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but aren’t you a violinist?”

Arthur smirked and nodded, a deep blue aura radiating around him.

Kiku never lent Arthur his cello ever again.

*

This was absolutely ridiculous.

Lovino crossed his arms and tapped his foot as Antonio put down his reed into a tiny coffin with the gentleness of a mother bird.

Antonio sniffed and wiped a few tears away before preaching, “We gather here today to remember our dear lost friend, the reed. This reed was the best I’ve used in all my years as an oboist. I’m not ready to let it go.”

“Are you kidding me? There’s probably better reeds out there,” Lovino said.

“But this one was different! It was my only friend in times of trouble.”

“What are you trying to say, bastard?”

Antonio ignored his words and closed the coffin. He closed his eyes and whispered, “You’ll never be forgotten.”

Lovino rolled his eyes before tossing another reed at Antonio. “Here. Just use this.”

“Thanks!” Antonio tossed the coffin into his bag before putting the new reed in his oboe. His misery had transformed into a grin within a few seconds.

Lovino sighed before picking up his clarinet. He would never understand what went on in Antonio’s head.

*

“I thought we agreed to never to this again,” Emil said.

Leon ignored him and continued to play “Never Gonna Give You Up” on the xylophone.

The other percussionists sighed and went back to playing on their phones, seemingly used to this behavior.

“If you’re going to play a meme, at least play something better,” Emil said. He realized his mistake when Leon smirked.

Leon switched from “Never Gonna Give You Up” to “Mm Watcha Say.”

Emil sighed and walked back to the viola section.

Why was Leon his best friend again?

*

If there was one thing Gilbert didn’t expect from the seating audition, it was the guy he had taught everything to overtaking him.

“Trumpet section. Second chair, Gilbert B. First chair, Alfred J,” Roderich said, reading off a paper.

Gilbert chuckled, not moving from the first chair. “Rody, you must be mistaken. I’m sure I did better than this kid at the seating audition.”

Roderich shook his head. “No. The other directors agreed that this would be the best for the orchestra. Now, switch seats.”

Gilbert’s face paled as he switched seats with the American next to him.

Alfred smirked. “Looks like you’re my page turning slave now.”

“Can’t believe I lost my seat to a new kid,” Gilbert muttered before turning the page to their piece.

*

It was during the middle of rehearsal when Vladimir realized that Heracles didn’t have sheet music.

“Hey, did you lose your sheet music?” Vladimir asked, “And how are you still playing?”

Heracles shrugged. “I’ve just been banging on these drums whenever I felt like it, and the conductor hasn’t noticed yet. It’s been at least a week.”

Vladimir chuckled. “I strive to be like you.”

“Don’t.” Heracles yawned before resting his head on the timpani. “Wake me up when rehearsal is over.”

Vladimir nodded.

Heracles’s ability to fall asleep anywhere at any time was astounding.

*

Mathias should have practiced.

He looked at his music, confused on what positions to go to or why his intonation was off by at least two notes whenever he played.

He turned to the other two trombones. “Hey, did you guys practice?”

Vash shook his head. “Lily was sick, and I needed to take care of her.”

“I did. Mathias, you need to be more responsible,” Ludwig said.

Mathias shushed him. “No, you didn’t practice. If one of us is fucked, then we’re all fucked. Nobody be a wimp and practice right now.”

Ludwig gave him a funny look.

Gilbert reached over to tap his brother on the shoulder. “He’s right. The trumpet section didn’t practice either, and the French horns sound awful. The entire brass section is fucked.”

Ludwig sighed before shaking his head and setting his trombone down.

It amazed him that the World Symphony was regarded as one of the top university orchestras.

*

Elizabeta was done with the required health and physical education class’s bullshit. She slipped on the knee guard she had bought earlier.

Gilbert stopped and snorted at her. “What are you doing?”

“I bought this cheap knee guard at the store so I can pretend to be injured and get out of the PE class. I have a theory test after this, and I didn’t study. Now help me secure this.”

“Hold it. Do you have another?”

Elizabeta smirked and pulled another knee guard out of her bag. “You know I do.”

The two walked into PE class, limping and holding on to each other for support.

The teacher raised an eyebrow at them. “What happened?”

“It was all his fault!” Elizabeta hissed. “He ran us right into a sharp railing and dragged me along for it.”

Gilbert glared at her. “What? If anything, it was your fault. You were the one that tried to pull me down. If you hadn’t done that, then we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.”

“Hush, stop arguing! You’ll both have to sit out for this class. Try not to kill each other,” the teacher said before turning to the other students.

Gilbert and Elizabeta smirked at each other as they limped to the bleachers and pulled out their music theory study materials.

“You think he’ll catch us?” Elizabeta asked.

Gilbert shook his head. “Just stay quiet, and he’ll forget.”

They both made an A on the theory test.

*

Feliciano should have listened to Ludwig and Kiku when they told him not to procrastinate on the music history essay.

He pounded on his head as he paced around the room. “What do I do, brother? I can’t just do my history essay in thirty minutes!”

Lovino took a sip from his coffee cup. “Well, I did.”

“Really? What did you write for the personality and interests part?”

“I said he was a fuckboy and pulled three paragraphs out of my ass and wrote a bullshit conclusion on why he was a fuckboy.”

Needless to say, both received F’s on the essay.

*

Lars thought it was a miracle when he found a package of sauce in his bag during a lecture. He dug around for a bag of chips, but found none. His hopes and dreams were crushed.

He turned and whispered down his desk’s aisles. “Hey, I have dip but no chips. Does anyone have some chips?”

Bella, his sister, sighed and reached into her purse, pulling out a bag of chips. She handed it to Lars. “Didn’t I tell you to pack food for this lecture?”

Lars ignored her question. “Thanks, Bella. Do you want some?”

Bella smiled and nodded.

The two shared the chips and dip among themselves, tuning out the lecture and whispering to each other.

*

Michelle should have practiced. She had no doubt about it.

She hugged her French horn as Roderich chewed out the French horn section.

“Horns, did any of you practice? It seems like only one of you bothered to put any effort into this music,” Roderich said.

Michelle bit her lip and tried to raise a shaky hand before Francis, the first chair, slapped it down and stood up.

“The only one that practiced was Michelle. We apologize. It’ll never happen again.”

Roderich nodded before turning to the other sections.

Francis sat back down and smiled at Michelle.

“Why did you do that?” Michelle asked.

“Horns have to cover for other horns,” he said, “We can’t just abandon each other in times of trouble.”

“Isn’t that taking section loyalty a bit too far?”

“Shush, listen to your section leader.”

Michelle pretended to weep one tear before she turned the music to the appropriate page.

*

It was finally the tuba’s time to shine.

Matthew’s eyes lit up as he readied his tuba for his only solo in years. He took in a deep breath before playing the sad melody to Shostakovich’s Waltz.

It went smoothly until the trumpet decided to take over for him.

Matthew glared at Alfred, who interrupted his solo.

Alfred grinned at him sheepishly and mouthed an apology for not counting the rests.

Matthew mouthed back a threat before continuing his solo.

*

Lily’s face paled when she looked at the theory homework that her teacher had given to her class. She turned to Vash, who sat next to her in the library. “Is it too late to have a breakdown now?”

“Lily, it’s only the second week.”

“I know.”

Vash sighed before looking over at her homework. “Are you sure you don’t want to withdraw from this class instead?”

“I need to get a good grade in this class,” Lily said, scanning the worksheet.

“You’re more important than a grade. Withdraw if you feel like it’s not right for you or keep going. I trust that you’ll make the right decision.”

Lily smiled before throwing her arms around Vash. “Thank you.”

Vash froze before reciprocating the hug and the smile.

*

To Arthur, the repeated sixteenth note section wasn’t too bad. All he had to do was count properly and hope that the rest would follow him.

The only obstacle in his way was that he failed step one.

Arthur’s eyes roamed the page, hoping to find his place. His eyes crossed until the notes became a blur of black dots on a white sheet of paper.

He glanced over to the second chair. “Where in the lord’s name are we?”

“I have no idea,” Lukas whispered back.

The rest of the violin section tripped over the notes and missed their melody’s entrance.

Arthur sighed as Roderich scolded the violin section.

*

The strangest thing to see in Kiku’s life was a pack of other music majors in one practice room playing in a recorder ensemble.

Yong Soo, Alfred, Antonio, and Michelle sat in a circle with sheet music spread around them.

A clarinet, trumpet, oboe, and French horn putting aside their differences and reconciling with each other to form a recorder ensemble… It was inspiring.

Kiku snapped a quick picture before walking away.

*

“Aren’t people from Germany called Germanese?”

Yong Soo’s words silenced the music history room as he looked straight into the professor’s eyes.

A moment passed before Yong Soo’s mind processed what he said. He slammed his forehead onto his desk and mumbled an apology. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yong Soo, you’re one of the top students,” Alfred said.

“I know!”

Ludwig sighed and looked back up to the presentation on the screen.

What was wrong with his class?

*

Roderich’s greatest regret of the day was telling the World Symphony about his plans for a winter holiday concert.

He cleared his throat. “As you may know, we will be hosting a winter holiday concert in a few weeks. We’ll be playing a few simple songs, nothing much to rehearse. The problem is that we don’t have a mascot. Who would like to do so?”

Tino raised his hand.

“And no, you won’t be the mascot this time, Tino.”

Tino smiled at him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me be the mascot this year again.”

Roderich gulped. It was either his safety or the main director’s decisions.

The smile wrenched into a grin.

Safety it was.

“Tino will be the mascot this year. Does anyone have any objections?” Roderich asked.

No one dared to raise their hand.

*

Francis knew something was wrong when Arthur grabbed him by the collar and whispered, “Stab me in the eye, and I’ll buy you dinner.”

“What?”

“My jury is next week, and my teacher never told me.”

Francis gulped. “I forgot about them.”

Arthur shook his head. “I’ll get Grandmother to light a candle for you.”

“I’ll kill you if you kill me.”

“Deal.”

*

Honestly, Emil wasn’t even the least bit surprised at this point.

Lukas had poured coffee into his cereal and ate it like it was normal milk and cereal.

Emil sat down next to him, looking at the coffee and cereal mix. “Weren’t you supposed to give up coffee a few weeks ago?”

“I need coffee injected into my blood stream. Now,” Lukas said, staring right into Emil’s eyes.

“Finals week?”

“Yes.”

“… Give me some of that coffee.”

*

“What if I just completely break down in front of our teacher and make her freak out so she postpones the test?” Alfred asked.

Matthew, who sat next to him, nodded. “Go be the hero for the rest of us.”

“Right!”

The next day, Alfred crumpled to the floor, sobbing. “There was a test today? How could there be a test today? I swear, I wrote it down in my planner and everything. How am I gonna find a job? How am I gonna live out there?”

The teacher rolled her eyes. “You’ve pulled this shit way too many times, Alfred. Now get back to your seat.”

Alfred pouted before sitting down in his seat.

Matthew shrugged, trying to hold back a laugh. “It was worth a shot.”

“Wait, you just wanted to see me break down, didn’t you?”

“Um…”

Alfred laughed. “I probably would have done the same.”

“You are the worst brother ever.”

“Right back at ya, Mattie.”

*

“Did you bring a pencil?”

“No, did you?”

Emil and Tino stared at the music in front of them while Roderich listed out the many bowing changes that would have to be perfected next rehearsal.

Roderich hit his baton on the stand. “Emil, Tino, I don’t see you writing down these bowings.”

Tino apologized before holding a finger up to the music. He winked at Emil before moving his finger in random places, as if he were writing down the bowings.

“You know we’re dead next rehearsal, right?” Emil asked.

Tino smiled. “Yup.”

*

The first sightreading rehearsal was always the worst.

Sure, all of them had their terrible, out of tune, and downright horrifying sounds, but Roderich just could not excuse this one rehearsal.

The strings and percussions cringed at the squeaky mess of the brass and woodwind sections as they attempted to blast out the melody.

Roderich cut them off with a wave of his hand.

The orchestra fell silent.

“Brasses, woodwinds. What was that?”

The two sections stuttered out their excuses and apologies while the other sections watched, smirking and chuckling at their misfortune.

The brasses and woodwinds glared at them.

The rivalry between the band and orchestra still raged on beyond high school.

*

Who was this guy thinking counterpoint was the shit?

“First of all, counterpoint is the basis to the classical and baroque eras, and they wouldn’t be recognizable without it,” Heracles said, glaring at Sadik.

Sadik scoffed. “And that’s why the baroque and classical eras were so shitty.”

“What did you just say?”

Sadik inched closer with every word. “I said, ‘That’s why the baroque and classical eras were so shitty.’ You got a problem with that?”

Heracles clenched his fists before a pianist and drummer started to play an unfamiliar song.

The two broke into a dance.

Sadik scowled at Heracles. “You are so dead when this music stops.”

Heracles scoffed. “I’d like to see you try.”

*

No one should ever trust piccolos ever again.

Roderich cut off the orchestra after the piccolo solo before sighing. “Lily, have you practiced your solo at all?”

Lily blinked at her music. “Oh, sorry, I was reading that in bass clef.”

“But you’re a-“ Roderich was cut off by a glare from Vash.

Roderich cleared his throat and raised his baton. “Start from section F.”

*

The first time Alfred was given the music, he scoffed.

It was riddled with black dots and lines in a language that looked familiar but he couldn’t quite understand. Sharps and flats dotted the page as well as obscure words that he had never seen.

“Yeah, I’m not playing that,” Alfred said, pointing at the page. “I’ll just fake it.”

Gilbert wrinkled his eyebrows and stared at him. “Alfred, that’s a-“

“I don’t care. I’m not playing.”

“Alright, whatever floats your boat,” Gilbert said. He leaned back in his seat, covering a smirk.

Roderich clapped his hands together before raising the baton. “Everyone, start at measure 241. Be sure to stay quiet for the trumpet solo.”

Alfred’s face paled.

Gilbert would have laughed if he hadn’t realized that the solo was meant for two trumpets.

The two widened their eyes at each other before fumbling their way through the rhythm and sharps.

The rest of the brasses giggled at them while the woodwinds struggled to hold back their laugh as they held their whole notes. The strings plugged their ears during their rests.

Roderich cut off the orchestra before sighing and covering his face with his hands.

Gilbert and Alfred looked down in shame.

*

When Arthur stepped inside his family’s house for the winter holidays, he was met with a hug from his mother and sneers from his brothers.

His mother released him with a wide grin on her face. “I’m so happy to see you again. Would you mind playing us a tune when the rest of the family comes over?”

“Sorry, I left my sheet music and talent at college,” Arthur muttered.

“Nonsense. I’m sure Peter will let you borrow his recorder.”

Arthur glared at Peter.

Peter smirked and held out his recorder. “Won’t you play us a tune, brother dear?”

Arthur ended up playing “Ode to Joy” on a plastic recorder that evening.

*

Elizabeta was absolutely fed up with Gilbert’s bullshit.

She sighed. “Look, if you were going to help me with my music, you would have done so years ago. Get out of my practice room.”

“It’s just simple claps and stomps!”

“I’m a singer. If I could stomp and clap, don’t you think I’d be something else?”

Gilbert wrinkled his nose. “Why would you ever want to be a percussionist?”

A bang came from the practice room next door.

“What the hell did you just say about percussionists?”

Elizabeta leaned against the door with a smirk. “We said that you all suck and are constantly out of tune!”

“Come over here and fight me! Vladimir shouted.

“Why don’t you come here and fight me?”

Elizabeta snorted. “In that case…” She stepped out of the practice room.

A few minutes later, Elizabeta and Vladimir sat at a desk, writing an essay on the consequences of violence in the world.

*

“I’m thinking about dropping music history,” Lily said, keeping her eyes on the sheet music in front of her.”

Vash looked up from the newspaper. “Why? Don’t you need that class to graduate?”

“Yeah, but half of it is full of people who’ve never played instruments, and I overheard two people having a serious talk about why there were hashtags in front of the music.”

“… Just drop it.”

*

It started with an offhand statement from Yao.

“Mei, shouldn’t you clean out your flute? It’s been a while.”

Mei had laughed him off and claimed that she would clean it later.

That was the worst decision she had ever made in her life.

Mei stared at her cleaning swab in horror.

The swab picked up chunks of chicken from the dinner she had last night, at least a cup’s worth of spit, fuzz, and suspicious green slime she couldn’t identify.

Mei plugged her nose before throwing her cleaning swab away and asking around for a new one.

*

Why did Kiku always run into these type of things?

KIku watched as Arthur, Lukas, and Vladimir drew a pentagram on the practice room floor with white chalk, chanting from a book. Upon further inspection, two violins and a pair of mallets rested in front of a piano.

Arthur led the others through the ritual. “Demon, we request your presence to help us pass our juries and finals this year without dying. If you’re out there, please give a sign.”

A gust of wind blew past them.

“Will you show yourself?”

The ground rumbled underneath them before the head of Ivan poked through the ground. He smiled. “You called?”

“Not you!” The trio pushed Ivan back into the ground.

Kiku walked away from the practice room, not surprised in the slightest.

*

“Hey, Mei, you know what a good stand sounds like?” Leon asked, waving Mei over.

“You actually found a good stand?” Mei asked.

Leon answered by flipping top part of the stand over.

The stand groaned and croaked with every movement. Tiny bits of the rust fluttered to the ground as Leon struggled to push it the rest of the way down.

“I should have expected this,” Mei groaned, holding her hands over her ears.

The rest of the orchestra followed her movements.

*

Roderich stopped the horrifying mess of sounds that rang throughout the rehearsal hall before his eardrums could bleed. “Which section is always out of tune there?”

The orchestra paused before pointing at the violas.

The violas gasped and held their hands to their chests, as if they were shocked by the mere possibility of playing out of tune.

“Violas, fix that. Begin five measures before section H.”

The violas grumbled but brought their instruments to their shoulders.

*

The dress rehearsal had gone well for Matthew. No one could hear his mistakes, as he was the only tuba, and he hadn’t made any.

Until now.

Matthew stared at his traitorous mouthpiece lying on the floor. It had broken away from his tuba in the middle of the brass’s melody.

The orchestra stopped and turned to stare at him.

The brass section collectively sighed before looking back at their music.

Matthew fought the blush rising to his cheeks and picked up the mouthpiece.

The one time he was actually noticed by the orchestra, and it happened to be when his mouthpiece decided to betray him. Wonderful.

*

Arthur learned to never practice high notes next to a voice major the hard way.

Arthur smirked as he jumped from first position to seventh position on his E string. He would have made the jump to the next harmonic if he wasn’t interrupted.

Elizabeta took in a deep breath before shrieking at the top of her lungs.

Arthur jumped. “Good lord, Elizabeta, Why did you scream?”

Elizabeta grinned at him. “Just trying to practice along with you. High notes are a bitch, right?”

“Sure.” Arthur turned back to his music and set his bow on his lowest string, being sure to stay below fifth position.

*

It was the finale of the World Symphony’s last concert of the season.

The strings ran through their sixteenth notes as their fingers climbed up their instruments. The woodwinds completed their runs before holding their half notes. All three of the percussionists banged on the drums as if their life depended on how fast they could play. The singers traveled up the scale along with the other instruments. The brasses blasted out the final melody before all sections finished with a chord.

The audience clapped and cheered, some standing up and some throwing flowers onto the stage.

The orchestra smiled and stood up, bowing.

Smiles and grins stretched their faces until they felt as if their cheeks would tear. A few of the members hugged their stand partner, clapping them on the back. Eventually, they walked off the stage.

Chatters and plans of next season filled the storage room as they packed up, both exhausted and exhilarated.

Despite all the crying and sweat during rehearsals and individual practice, the power that came from finishing a concert was worth everything.


End file.
